


The Bluest Things On Earth

by Ottermelon



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Post-Canon, for now it's post-canon anyway, i guess??, i heard there's this thing called "YohaRiko Week 2018", idk what that is but here you go, since we don't know what the movie holds for us, they're at their new high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottermelon/pseuds/Ottermelon
Summary: In her second year of high school, Yoshiko hears a familiar sound coming from the music room. It's a sound that she hasn't heard for months - one that she didn't know she missed so dearly.





	1. The Bluest Things On Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes. Great idea, me, to write a new story in the face of FOUR ONGOING PROJECTS. I'd advise you to stay away from this thing because it's not complete either, but if you can stomach another one of Ottermelon's Unfinished Stories, then I'm not going to stop you.
> 
> This first chapter is basically Chapter 5 of Till We Make Our Ascent, but re-skinned for YohaRiko. (Shameless plug for you to go and check that one out if you haven't already, it's one of the few things I've written that I actually like.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I wrapped my arms around the moment like I'm clutching a memory:_  
>  You alive in your madness, in love with the night.
> 
>  
> 
> _The Wonder Years - "The Bluest Things On Earth"_

Her mind was elsewhere, thinking of what she would do after school, when she heard it.

Her body reacted before anything else; in reaching for her bag, her hand stopped midway through its course. The sound was distant, and perhaps her movements froze out of a sense of respect, as though it would disappear if she continued to ruffle papers and squeak her chair around.

Though she would never admit it to anyone, she had always wondered what she would do if this day ever came. Which emotion would overcome her first? Of course, of  _ course _ she would run to the source of the sound as fast as her feet would take her, but what would she say when she got there?

Most importantly, what feeling was the sound trying to convey?

This very scenario had played in her mind many times over, but that didn’t mean she had an answer to any of those questions. And now that this day was finally here, she was forced to make peace with this fact.

Still, her feet carried her out the door and down the hall, towards her salvation. Class had just ended for the day, and she almost bumped into many a surprised student in her hurry. She paid them no mind. How could they not appreciate that sound, that beautiful sound? Years of being on the fringes of normal social standards probably helped her ignore the stares, as well.

The crowds of students thinned the closer she got to the end of the hall, and conversely, the sound rang louder in her ears. The initial rush of adrenaline faded, and she slowed to a stop. Raising a shaking hand to the door, she sidled up to the window set in the middle, allowing her to peer inside.

Their new school had a music room and a piano, but for the four months that Yoshiko had been there, she had yet to hear a single note played on its keys. That was not for the lack of talent at this school. She knew that much. She could fathom a guess as to why the piano sat untouched, but various reasons, flimsy or otherwise, prevented her from receiving a definitive answer from the person in question. Their talks were mostly in passing, and she knew better than to breach a sensitive subject with a sentence as brutish as  _ “Why haven’t you been playing recently?”  _

On the off-chance she did receive an answer to that question, she knew what that answer would most likely be.

_ “It’s not the same, you know?” _

Yet, there she was with her back to the door, her maroon hair swaying gently across her back as she moved to the music. Her sudden appearance at the piano, after so many months and after Yoshiko had all but banished this scene to the land of fantasy, was almost dreamlike.

Musical proficiency had always been a mystery to Yoshiko. Whether she was faced with keys, strings, frets, buttons, or anything of the sort, she could liken the process of playing music to some sort of ritual. Just the right amount of air here, just the right amount of pressure there. Fingers placed here - but not for too long, because they had to be moved at lightning speed to play the next series of notes.

It was a ritual that Yoshiko never understood. She figured that those who did understand worked some sort of magic on the keys or strings, to produce the perfect sound at any given moment. They knew the precise steps needed to concoct the perfect ritual, the perfect musical piece.

And she was sure she was witnessing a ritual at this very moment, as the girl worked her magic on the keys. Her hands moved with both speed and grace, and each time her fingers pressed down, the resulting note resonated in Yoshiko’s ears.

She couldn’t see the girl’s expression, but just from her gentle movements and the quiet confidence of her hands, Yoshiko guessed that she had surrendered herself to the music. She was likely smiling, her eyes closed to further immerse herself. Yoshiko felt a soft smile spread across her own face, and her eyelids began to fall, yearning for the same love that this girl surely felt…

She leaned in. The door gave under her weight. She scrambled to stop her fall, pressing her hands into the door, but the door only swung in more violently.

_ Ah… it was already open… _

She had no time to reflect on her grave mistake, as she tumbled into the room with an unpleasant thump. The playing ceased at that moment, an errant note hanging in the air.

Yoshiko whined in pain, her elbows smarting as a result of her throwing out her arms a moment earlier. She looked up and saw the girl at the piano had turned around, her golden eyes the very picture of surprise. “Yocchan?”

Had she missed the sound of that voice this much? Though high with worry, it was almost as musical as her piano playing. “Riko. Fancy seeing you here,” Yoshiko grunted, thankful that she had found her voice despite the fact that Riko’s own still echoed in her ears.

Riko looked from the door, swung wide open, to Yoshiko, sprawled out on the ground. She did so multiple times, a hint of red rising to her cheeks. “Were you… spying on me, by chance?”

“N-no!” Yoshiko scrambled to her feet. “Not spying! I was…” she fumbled for a better word. ‘Spying’ was too implicative, too morally questionable. “I was just listening!”

Riko seemed dubious for a moment longer before her face relaxed into a sigh. “From outside the room?” She shook her head, but the accusation had disappeared from her voice. “Why didn’t you just come inside?”

_ Because I wanted to savor the moment.  _ That was the real reason, the real answer, but there were other answers that weren’t exactly lies. “I wanted to see if it was really you playing.”

Riko nodded slowly, turning back to the piano. “Yeah. It’s really me.” She ran her left hand across a series of white keys. “I’m a bit rusty, though. I don’t remember the last time I made that many mistakes.”

“What? I won’t let my little demon talk about herself like that.” Yoshiko stepped forward. “It was beautiful. Angelic, you could even say.”

Riko ducked her head, and for a moment Yoshiko wondered if she’d said the wrong thing, or if she’d said too much. “Thanks, Yocchan, but I’m a bit worried. I hope it’s just what happens when you don’t play for a while.”

There it was: the question that Yoshiko was most afraid to ask, but her ache to know the reason why had only increased by the day. Riko herself had breached it so casually, all but handing her an opportunity to ask. It would be natural, not forced:  _ “Why haven’t you been playing recently? _

_ “...I miss your music.” _

“...Well, don’t mind me,” she said. “Don’t stop playing just because I’m here.” She motioned towards the piano.

Riko didn’t see her encouraging gesture, as she was now fixated on the keys. What was going on in her mind? Had she, perhaps, dredged up an unwanted memory with her own words? Her hands still moved up and down the keys, but they seemed aimless, without purpose. Her expression was similarly lost, as though her eyes were on the piano, but were truly looking at something else.

“Riko?” Yoshiko tried, taking another step closer. She could reach out with ease and rest her hand on Riko’s shoulder, or better yet, take one of her gentle, magical hands in her own -

“You know what?” Riko reached up abruptly after several moments of near-stagnation, making Yoshiko jump. She lowered the piano cover on top of the keys, and seeming assured that the piano was properly closed, gave Yoshiko a sudden and unexpected smile. “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Uh…” Yoshiko didn’t know how to react to the sudden mood shift.

“Do you want to hang out? It’s been a while since we’ve done that, too.” She rose from the bench, and Yoshiko had to step aside to allow her room to leave. “How does coffee sound?” She didn’t seem interested in any dissenting opinion, as she was already halfway out the door when she made her suggestion.

Yoshiko reluctantly followed her, itching to point out how school had just ended and Riko couldn’t have been playing for long.

* * *

 

Numazu, being more urban than Uchiura, had no shortage of shops, cafes, and places for bored high school students to kill time. Still, Yoshiko found herself missing the quaint cafe that she and Riko had frequented last year, together with the rest of Aqours. It was quieter, more peaceful - when the nine of them weren’t making a racket, at least.

This cafe, while not that large, didn’t seem to afford that same intimacy. Not quite loud, it still bustled with the business of a typical early afternoon.

Riko sat across from her, sipping her drip coffee. Yoshiko wanted to comment on how little creamer and sugar she’d adorned it with, but perhaps that was out of jealousy, seeing as her own coffee was almost beige in color. The walk to the cafe had been short, only punctuated with small talk on how much Riko liked their coffee and pastries.

Yoshiko pondered on how to approach the piano again, if Riko even wanted to keep talking about it.  _ She probably didn’t want to be around it for much longer _ … That would explain her sudden change of heart, how she had left the room as quickly as Yoshiko had tumbled into it.

Those few moments, where it was just her, Riko, and the piano, had been nothing short of magical. How could she have forgotten what Riko could do when she put her fingers to those keys? It was selfish of her to think so, but she wanted to hear it again, to ingrain it so deeply into her memory that it would haunt her dreams, even if she found her way back to heaven one day.

“How have you been, Yocchan? It seems like you’ve been pretty busy, since we haven’t hung out in a while.”

Right. They had other things to catch up on, as well; the texts and brief chats they had exchanged up until now were hardly enough. Yoshiko craved more. “I suppose,” she said, shrugging. “Lots of rituals and demonic streams. More of the usual.”

“I hope you’re putting aside time to focus on school, too.” Riko raised an eyebrow, her spoon clinking around inside her coffee cup. “You’re almost halfway done.”

“Ugh.” Yoshiko blanched. “Don’t put it like that! I want to draw out my rose-colored youth for as long as possible.”

“Is it really rose-colored for you?” Riko giggled, and Yoshiko’s heart soared at the sound. “I’d think it’s closer to pitch black.”

Yoshiko crossed her arms, considering this impressive observation. “That’s true. Perhaps pitch-black, but with speckles of rose?” _Or_ _cherry,_ she thought, seeing the girl in front of her.

Riko held her gaze on Yoshiko, the intent contained within almost crossing the boundary into staring. Yoshiko almost buckled under her stare when Riko said, “I wish I was a second-year again.”

It was Yoshiko’s turn to stare, but just like earlier, she couldn’t read Riko’s expression. It was a little frustrating, and Yoshiko had to choose her next words all the more carefully because of it. Was she thinking about Aqours? It was inevitable; Aqours had brought them together, and for a long time thereafter they would surely associate the others’ presence with memories of Aqours, if not for the rest of their lives…

Failing to find a decent response, she could only settle for a simple, “Why?”

Riko stared into her coffee. Yoshiko wanted to think that she was thinking just as hard about her next words. “I feel like I had less to worry about.”

Yoshiko frowned. Seeing her apparent confusion, Riko hurried to correct herself. “I mean, I had a lot to worry about. We both did, with Aqours and all,” she clarified. “But I’d rather have to worry about that than what I’m worrying about now.”

“And what are you worrying about now?” Yoshiko could hazard a guess, but she wanted to hear it from Riko directly. 

Riko exhaled, as though it took a physical effort to respond. “Exams, college, moving out. What I’m going to do after high school.”

For once, Yoshiko’s hunch was right. She nodded, and though the gesture was little more than a platitude, she hoped that Riko understood her sympathy even though she couldn’t yet relate to those worries, far away as they seemed to a second-year like herself. “Aren’t you planning on going to music school? You’ll be fine.”  _ Knowing how you sound when you play, you have to be. _ Her own biases aside, Yoshiko truly believed it. Without Riko’s compositions and arrangements, Aqours would have never been anything more than an idea in the mind of one fearlessly optimistic high school girl.

“Ah…” Riko pursed her lips. “I don’t know about that.”

Yoshiko tilted her head. Again, it wasn’t a matter of her not knowing why. It was a matter of whether Riko would be okay with telling her, whether she trusted Yoshiko enough with sensitive information. She wanted to think that Riko did, but ultimately it was Riko’s decision, not hers.

“Yocchan. You saw me playing in the music room earlier.”

“I did…”

Riko nodded to herself. “You go on and on about how unlucky you are, and usually I agree, but…”

Yoshiko scratched her head. “What does this have to do with luck?”

“Everything. That was the first time I’ve played in months. My mom never yells at me, but I feel like she’s about to since the piano in my room is just gathering dust. Exams are only getting closer, too.”

_ I thought so. _ “I…” Again, Yoshiko had to prevent herself from giving away more than she needed to. “I couldn’t tell.”

Riko offered a half-smile in acceptance for the compliment.“Maybe you couldn’t, but I made a lot of mistakes. As I got further into the piece, I felt more and more discouraged, because it was like I’d lost all the years of practice and discipline. Just because I’d neglected it for a little while. When you barged in, your timing was almost perfect. I was pretty close to giving up anyway.”

“W-well, what were you playing?” Yoshiko asked, seeing where this conversation was headed. “Maybe it was the piece that was too difficult.”

“It was just a piano cover. I saw an anime last season that I loved the opening for, so I made my own arrangement on the piano that I could play whenever I wanted. At least, that was the plan,” she added, her brows furrowing. “Sure, I added some flourishes, runs and arpeggios where I probably didn’t need to, but it was nothing compared to the classical music that I’ve been playing for years.”

Yoshiko was, simply put, at a loss for words. What had happened to the fleeting fantasy of just twenty minutes prior, where she wanted to lose herself in the music emanating from the piano room? She had played that scenario in her head ad nauseum, but somehow she had failed to picture, even once, the soured aftermath.

Riko’s prolonged absence at the seat of the piano had told her this was a clear and present possibility. It was selfish of her, to only want the moment and not the emotional fallout that followed.

Riko peered at her intently. Yoshiko wondered if she was too transparent, if her worries were playing out on her face without her knowing. “You want to know why, don’t you? It would be rude of me to say that and leave you wanting for an explanation.”

That confirmed it. There was nothing left than to go along with it, inadequate as she felt when it came to dealing with this problem that so apparently weighed on Riko. “You should know that I will always bear the problems of my little demons,” she tried with a sweep of her hand, coming in dangerous proximity to the steaming cup of coffee that sat next to her. “I-if you’re comfortable with that, that is.”

“Of course.” Riko smiled, a genuine one, in contrast to the half-hearted smile from earlier. “We’re friends, right?”

The simple declaration caught Yoshiko off-guard. “You’re my little demon!” she corrected, feeling a flush rise to her face.

Riko laughed airily at Yoshiko’s flustered gesturing, but a darker visage soon took its place. Yoshiko returned to attention.

“I graduate in a few months, and it’s right off to music school for me. That’s always been the plan. But I’ve been thinking lately about that. If that’s what I really want. I think I’m comparing my ideas about music school to our time in Aqours, and…” She bit her lip, retreating into her thoughts to deliberate her next words. “...and it’s really no contest.

“I mean, look at us, Yocchan. We did it.  _ We _ did it,” she repeated, as though she was still coming around to that fact. Yoshiko couldn’t blame her; everything, the multiple failures culminating in their final victory, had gone by so fast. “We won the Love Live. Sure, if you ask anyone, a successful career as a professional musician is better than anything we could do as teenagers, but… how can I achieve that same success when I’m spending hours sweating over a piano? When the professors are yelling at me because I played two eighth notes instead of a dotted-eighth note and a sixteenth note?

“I feel like it’s unfair for me to compare Aqours to anything that comes after, because this is what happens. Suddenly, what seemed so sensible and fun became…  _ daunting _ .”

Yoshiko tapped her finger on the table, letting it fill the silence while Riko waited for her to respond. “Well, if you don’t want to go to music school, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know!” Riko huffed. Yoshiko flinched at the unexpected force of her words, and her sudden movement rattled her coffee cup and spilling its contents onto her hand. A few stares turned towards their table. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Riko nearly tumbled over herself in her rush to clean up the spilled coffee. “Did it burn you?”

“I’m fine. It’s cooled down already,” Yoshiko murmured, saving any comments about hellfire and brimstone for another time.

There wasn’t much to clean up, and so Riko crumpled up the used napkin with a sigh. “That was uncalled for. I just… I ask myself that all the time, and I can never find an alternative. So…  I concluded there’s no reason for me to feel like this, but I still can’t bring myself to practice. I’m just frustrated.”

Yoshiko didn’t want to give herself too much credit, especially because she didn’t want to fear the worst for a dear friend of hers. But those fears were now confirmed, and now the greatest blessing in Riko’s life, in both of their lives, up until now was anything but. If it threatened to derail her dream and send her into confusion, it was almost a curse.

Either Riko interpreted her pondering as an aversion to responding, or she was becoming increasingly self-conscious of the emotional baggage she’d just imparted, because she attempted to take back her speech. “Y-you know what? Just forget I said anything. This isn’t your problem, and you probably just wanted to hang out with me… not give me life counseling...”

“Stop right there, Riko.” Yoshiko brought her hand down on the table, though she was careful this time to avoid her coffee cup. “Didn’t I tell you that Yohane will bear the burdens of her little demons, worldly as they are?”

“You did, but…”

“But  _ nothing _ .” Yoshiko cut her off. “I think you should go for it.”

“Huh?”

“Go for it. Keep playing the piano. Chase your dream. That kind of thing.”

“But I don’t know if it’s my dream anymore.”

Yoshiko leaned in and studied the girl across from her, all of her fears, her nerves, and her aspirations considered. Riko shrunk back under the scrutiny, but held her gaze. “Earlier, when you were playing in the music room. What were you feeling?”

“Uh… I was feeling pretty down?” Her voice tapered off at the end. She didn’t sound sure of why Yoshiko was asking. “Like I said, I made a lot of mistakes.”

“No,  _ besides _ that.”

Riko opened her mouth, but she didn’t seem to find the response she wanted. “...I don’t know what you mean.”

Yoshiko took a deep breath. This wasn’t just about herself, her own happiness, or how she felt around Riko. She  _ was  _ still acting selfishly, in a way; giving Riko the right advice would surely earn her the praise and affection she had been sorely missing from her. But more than that, this was about Riko’s future. “Do you know what I saw when I looked into the room?”

“You saw me, didn’t you?”

“Not just that!” She leaned farther into the table, determined to get this point across. “I saw a girl who looked like she loved her music, who wanted for nothing more than to sit at the piano for hours. Who could get lost in the magical sounds that resonated when she touched a key. Who could touch the hearts of the darkest demons -” at this, she pointed at her own chest “- and the holiest angels alike… but most of all, she could make her own heart sing.” She pointed at Riko, the very muse of the words she believed in with all her heart.

Riko seemed stunned, her mouth open in a soft “o.” Her face was bright red, too, and only then did Yoshiko realize that she had leaned in further the longer she spoke, until their noses were almost touching. She snapped back into her own seat, trying to ignore the blushing contest the two were currently participating in. “I think… you still love it, if you allow yourself to. Why would you give that up?”

“R-right…” Riko all but whispered.

Seeing her close to shutting down wasn’t reassuring. Had she said the wrong thing? Worse still, had she said too much? Desperate for a more tangible response, Yoshiko backtracked. “I mean, it’s okay to feel how you’re feeling. But maybe you can still find a different kind of happiness with your piano. Not the kind we found with Aqours, but… it  _ is _ an angelic instrument. Don’t underestimate its potential.”  _ Especially when you’re behind the keys. _

Riko’s eyes were still unfocused, and Yoshiko was about to ask if she’d heard  _ any  _ of that when she finally came back down to Earth. “Sorry. It’s a lot to take in, but… You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yes. Yes! You’re right!” As her words became more confident, her smile grew. She reached across the table and held Yoshiko by the shoulders. “I knew I was right to tell you.”

An odd facet of their situation struck Yoshiko at that moment. “Why  _ did _ you ask Yohane? I mean, besides the fact that I walked in on you playing.”

“You’re not the first. I talked to Chika-chan and You-chan already, and they more or less told me to not give up. That they have full confidence in how well I play, and that they’ll support me if it means following that dream. Doesn’t that sound just like them?” She smiled at Yoshiko.

“Tell me about it.” Yoshiko could already imagine how it played out: Chika grabbing Riko by the shoulders and telling her to keep shining, to never let her brilliance fizzle out. She would probably top off her motivational speech with some cheesy anime quote.  _ “Believe in the me that believes in you!” _ she would shout, throwing her arms wide, with You offering her a full-on sailor’s salute to complete the spectacle.

Yoshiko was still snickering at the image when she felt Riko’s eyes boring into her. “Sorry,” she stammered. “You were saying?”

“You can imagine it, right?” Her eyes sparkled with laughter. It seemed that Yoshiko’s imagination was close to the real passing of events. “They made a big deal out of it, of course.

“They mean nothing but the best for me, but I think if I  _ still _ fail after all that, they’ll be disappointed. And if I’m still in a funk after hearing their advice, it’s like I’m letting them down. I just… I wanted someone to tell me that it’s okay to feel this way.”

Yoshiko shrugged. “When you mentioned Aqours, I think I knew. How do you come back down from that? Or, rise back up, in my case.”

“Yeah. Maybe I just needed a break. If I keep thinking about Aqours when I see a piano, I’ll never get better or keep improving.”

“Take your time. The flames of Hell are always waiting for Yohane.”

In truth, Yoshiko wanted nothing more than to hear Riko play again, but she didn’t mind being a little more patient if it meant getting the pianist back on her feet. 

Riko hummed in thought. “Maybe not. When you said I looked like I loved the piano earlier… maybe you’re onto something?”

Yoshiko felt her ears burn as her impressive imagery was brought back into the conversation. She hoped that Riko’s innocuous stare meant that she’d taken it as a compliment, and nothing more. “Oh. Don’t mind that, I was just-”

“I think I’ll give it another shot, but I need you there to make sure I don’t keep regressing.” She smiled at Yoshiko. “Will you come back tomorrow, Yoshiko-chan?”

_ You want a private audience? With Yohane?! _

Yoshiko returned the smile with a wicked grin. “Anything for my favorite little demon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This shouldn't be much longer, I want to wrap this up succinctly.
> 
> For now, it's back to taking 2 years to update my other stories.


	2. You Used To Burn Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've linked the piece that Riko plays when it pops up in the story (with corresponding timestamps), and I recommend listening along to it while you read if you like. I'd like to think it heightens the mood of the piece, whatever the heck that arbitrary concept means.

Yoshiko approached the music room for the second time in two days, taking slow, deliberate breaths. _Don’t get so worked up!_ _It’s not a date, it’s not a date…_

As much as she wanted to lose herself in the “private audience” fantasy she had put forth yesterday, she had to temper her expectations. This was for Riko to find the magic she was missing, not for Yoshiko to indulge herself in her meaningless desires.

_Could I somehow do both at the same time?_

In weighing the two, Yoshiko walked headfirst into the door, staggering back as pain lanced through her forehead. She clutched the tender area, cursing under her breath as she glared at the guilty party. It wasn’t her fault that she had lost herself in silly thoughts, it was the door’s fault for existing in that space and being firmly closed.

Only now did Yoshiko realize that something was amiss. She looked around the empty hallway, frowning. Riko should have been here by now.

The music room was silent. The light was on, but no one sat at the piano bench. From where she stood outside the window, she couldn’t see anyone inside.

Yoshiko pulled out her phone. No new messages.

A slight worry began to settle in at the edges of her mind. Yoshiko had to shake her head to displace it. “No, no, she’s probably just running late…” Just like yesterday, she had hurried to the music room as soon as class let out, and she knew it would be unreasonable to expect Riko to share that urgency.

She tested the handle, and the door yielded. The resulting squeak seemed to echo in the empty room. The same was true for her own, hesitant footsteps. They led her to the piano bench, which she regarded with suspicion as though it was somehow responsible for Riko’s current absence. Already, her mind swam with rogue thoughts; pictures of Riko offering only a nonchalant shrug to the piano, or worse still, crumpling to the ground after a particularly botched run appeared before her, and she reached for her phone, because coming off as a worrywart was preferable to not _knowing_...

The footsteps behind her didn’t register until a pair of hands closed around her face, shrouding her vision in black. “Surprise!”

Yoshiko squawked, and immediately regretted allowing that sound to escape from her mouth. Hoping this person couldn’t feel her face heating up, she flailed her arms in a futile attempt to escape. “Desist at once! Underestimating my powers will be your demise -”

A musical giggle sang in her ears. “You have to guess who this is if you want me to let go,” her assailant said.

Yoshiko’s arms fell to her sides, all of their resistance vanishing in that instant. “Riko?”

“Correct!” The veil was lifted, and Yoshiko spun around to a beaming Riko. “You’re right on time.”

Her smile dispelled all of Yoshiko’s prior worries, the unpleasant images her imagination had concocted, and the contrast made her want to leap forward and throw her arms around Riko, just to confirm that what she was seeing was real. Before she could, though, that very contrast tugged at the corners of her mouth, pulling it into a suspicious frown. “Were you…” She looked towards a far corner of the room, not visible when she looked inside moments before. “Were you hiding?”

Riko nodded.

“...Why?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I felt like having a bit of fun?” She tried, her smile fading slightly.

Yoshiko crossed her arms. “And did you have fun?”

Riko’s growing guilt was apparent in the way that she tented her fingers together, but that didn’t stop her from saying, “A little. Your reaction was great.”

Yoshiko pressed a finger to her temple, taking a deep breath. She had to choose her next words carefully, lest she let her annoyance show…

“Did you think I wasn’t showing up? Were you worried?” Riko beat her to it. Her smile had disappeared. That, combined with her pleading eyes, made it impossible for Yoshiko to lie.

“Yeah.”

“Ah…” Her quiet response was tinged with remorse. “If I changed my mind about today, I would have had the courtesy to tell you beforehand. But I still made you worry, so I’m sorry about that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Yoshiko muttered, wishing she would drop the subject and get on with her magical ritual of piano playing.

Riko wasn’t finished. “You must be pretty concerned about me, Yocchan.” She giggled. “You’re really too kind.”

“Kind?!” Yoshiko scoffed, bringing two fingers up to her eye. “Hardly. It’s my hellish duty. Don’t make me repeat myself!”

“Of course, of course.” The words were the audible equivalent of a dismissive hand-wave as Riko looked past Yoshiko, to the piano bench. “Shall we?”

* * *

 

 

She was chasing yesterday’s moment. She wanted to think they _both_ were chasing it. Because for those brief seconds, Yoshiko had wanted for nothing more than to lie down and let the music wash over her. That very claim she had put forth yesterday, at the coffee shop, applied just as much to herself as it did to Riko.

So from the moment Riko laid her fingers across the keys, Yoshiko couldn’t suppress her anticipation. The sound was just as she remembered it; she found herself swaying gently to the easy waltz tempo that Riko started off with. For all of Riko’s talk about mistakes, Yoshiko could almost believe that she could make the most dissonant notes ring out in harmony.

As much as she wanted to sit next to Riko at the piano bench, she restrained herself by pulling up an adjacent chair. Riko didn’t seem to mind when she produced her notes from class, and Yoshiko didn’t need to convince her that she was still listening. The occasional glances they exchanged seemed to be enough.

Now that she was only inches away, Yoshiko could properly observe the spellcaster herself, the one behind the magic. She carried herself a little differently than yesterday; whereas Yoshiko had previously imagined Riko to be the picture of grace, with a ghost of a smile and gently closed eyes to match, the real Riko seemed to crease her brows in a permanent furrow. Was it the result of simple concentration? For want of perfection? An unhealthy aversion to the slightest mistakes?

She banished those creeping doubts from her mind. She was happy because she was close to Riko, and Riko was happy because she was playing again. What more could she want?

Yoshiko had a semblance of musical training under her belt, which came naturally with singing in Aqours for a year. She supposed that she would be able to tune into an accidental change in tempo, or a note that was a half-step off. Today, however, she felt herself honing into the fleeting fantasy of yesterday’s Riko, yesterday’s piano, and in her desire to lose herself again, her eyelids fluttered closed despite the increasing urgency of the tempo, the misplaced accents -

_CLANG._

Only her previous embarrassment saved her from emitting another uncouth squawk, but she failed to suppress her more physical reaction: a sharp flinch that almost launched her out of her seat. Any protests on the tip of her tongue died as she saw that Riko had slammed the piano cover shut. She lowered her head, locks of maroon hair falling across her face and shrouding her normally bright eyes.

The cacophony left a pang in Yoshiko’s ears, its echoes careening off the walls. Yoshiko leaned closer, extending a tentative arm to the silent girl, who just moments before was the source of such a beautiful sound. It was an excuse to touch her, but she convinced herself that Riko needed the contact to bring her back to Earth. Her hand hovered over Riko’s opposite shoulder -

“It’s not working.”

Yoshiko drew back, and when Riko looked up to meet her gaze, she couldn’t tell whether she had done the right thing; those golden eyes looked so troubled, so confused. “I’m not feeling it. My mistakes… they’re too _loud_. They’re all I can hear.” She drew in a deep breath, and Yoshiko braced herself for a self-deprecating rant or something of the sort, but instead Riko let it out as slowly as she’d taken it in. “I was so sure I’d turned a new leaf yesterday…”

“Hey, hey…” Yoshiko soothed. The desire to touch this girl, so obviously in need of support, still held her, and so she similarly reached to hold Riko’s right hand, her frown deepening when she felt it shake in her own. “You did.”

“No, I didn’t!” Riko protested, attempting to gesticulate for emphasis, but she found herself hindered by Yoshiko’s grasp. She settled for a defeated sigh. “I’m even worse than yesterday.”

“Riko.”

“It’s like I’m forgetting how to play!” Riko’s voice rose in both volume and intensity. “Oh, what if I really _am_ hopeless -”

“ _Lily!_ ”

Her head snapped up, so close to Yoshiko that her locks brushed across the younger girl’s face. Once Yoshiko had properly appreciated how fortuitous they were to narrowly avoid a violent headbutt, she found Riko’s shimmering eyes directly in front of her. She had to fight herself to keep calm, and _not_ think of Riko’s slightly parted lips or her light breaths, which caressed Yoshiko’s own mouth. “Take a breath.” She removed her hands from Riko’s and placed them instead on the other girl’s shoulders, giving them a friendly shake. Riko’s expression didn’t change. “The piano is holy, so I don’t know much about it, but… you didn’t wake up one day and suddenly realize you were good at it, did you?”

Riko shook her head, the only indicator that she was listening.

“So isn’t it the same now?” She jerked her head towards the piano, sitting there silent and daunting all the while. “It’ll take time.”

“Yocchan…” Without warning, Riko closed the gap between them and threw her arms across Yoshiko’s back. Before she knew it, Yoshiko found her face buried in Riko’s hair, her senses overpowered by what seemed to be flowery shampoo. It took a tremendous effort of willpower for her not to take a deep breath and bask in the fragrance. “You’re right again,” she murmured into her shoulder. Yoshiko felt her heart thumping against Riko’s chest, and she thought to escape for all of a moment before she returned the embrace instead.

“I must have been too eager to return to form,” Riko continued. “I thought it was just a mental block, and I’d be right back at it by today.”

“Ah. Yohane isn’t suited to play the optimist, it seems,” she mused. After a moment, she buried her face into the crook of Riko’s shoulder, pleasantly surprised when she wasn’t met with a flinch of surprise or disdain.

“No, it’s not your fault. I just got ahead of myself.”

They remained in their embrace after both girls had fallen silent. Yoshiko didn’t know for how long, only that it wasn’t long enough when Riko finally separated herself. “You know, Yocchan…” she said, putting a finger to her chin.

“Hm?” Her response was the least “fallen angel” thing she could think of, dazed as she still was by the sudden turn of events.

“That was the first time you called me ‘Lily’ since…”

The interval dawned on Yoshiko just as it was pointed out to her. “Since Aqours? Yeah.” She saw Riko’s growing smile, a glint appearing in her golden eyes. She had to downplay it. “So?”

“I never minded it, you know.” Riko’s serious gaze conflicted with her wide smile, and Yoshiko cruelly wished in that moment that she hadn’t offered those words of consolation, if only to prevent such an unfavorable topic from coming up. The resulting shame colored her cheeks more than the overtly personal question that Riko followed up with. “Why did you stop?”

Yoshiko mentally flailed for a response, well-aware that Riko could see the blush she felt all the way to her own ears. But her mind ran in hapless circles, and only after the initial panic had faded did she realize why she was at such a loss for words:

“I don’t know.” She regretted averting her gaze, and she regretted how she muttered the words just above a whisper. She felt like she was lying somehow.

A short pause. “That makes two of us, then.” Riko laughed, and the tension in Yoshiko’s shoulders dissipated. “You don’t have to, but… Like I said, I wouldn’t mind if you picked it back up.”

Yoshiko’s face couldn’t get any redder. Riko’s word choice didn’t escape her; by using the same sentiment that Yoshiko had used on her to keep practicing, was she equating the two endeavors, unequal though they were? Or was Yoshiko overthinking the matter, like she always did when it came to this girl who used to be so radiant?

Riko’s voice dragged her out of her thoughts. “...anyway, it wouldn’t be smart to try playing after all that. I think I need some fresh air.” She got up, beckoning Yoshiko as she headed for the door. “The roof’s the best place to do that. Don’t you agree?”

Yoshiko followed suit, though she was still occupied with an alarming point that Riko - _no,_ _Lily_ \- had helped her realize.

 _Why_ did _I stop?_

* * *

 

 

The colder the weather became, the less likely students were to relax on the rooftop at any given point during the day. Here, in the middle of October, a few brave souls chatted as a light breeze blew across the roof. Riko rubbed her arms, her eyes narrow as though that would shield her from the mid-autumn chill, but she still insisted on moving forward. With the abundance of free space, they had no problem finding a spot at the roof’s edge.

On this rooftop, with its pervading chill, Yoshiko couldn’t help but think of times past, of the only time which she could definitively say fell under the “rose-colored youth” she so claimed to chase. On _that_ rooftop, characteristic of their now-defunct school, she, Riko, and the seven remaining girls of Aqours had found the radiance their leader had pursued with such perpetual intensity.

This, too, was “no contest,” if she were to borrow one of Riko’s phrases from yesterday. Uranohoshi’s rooftop was untouchable, literally and figuratively. Yoshiko found herself glaring at the cast-iron fence that boxed them in on this rooftop, as though she could burn holes in it just through the intensity of her stare alone. She missed how her uniform could never escape the smells of sand and sea salt, how the coast-bound ocean breeze was as present as the collective hope of nine bright-eyed girls on the rooftop, the only constants of that one single year.

“Do you actually like it up here?” An ever-present wistfulness weighed on Yoshiko’s words.

Riko faced the skyline, dotted with the occasional skyscraper. “It’s alright. Nothing special.”

“I thought you said -”

“That the rooftop’s the best place to get some fresh air? It is.” Riko’s eyes were on her now. “In some ways that are… less pleasant than others.”

Yoshiko frowned. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well…” Riko turned back to the rooftop’s edge, and something about the simple action told Yoshiko that she’d better listen to the older girl’s next words. “...There’s no better place than this to remind us Aqours is in the past.”

She looked back to Yoshiko, presumably for a reaction. Yoshiko’s wide eyes must have told her all she needed to know, because she didn’t wait for a verbal response. “Were you thinking the same thing?”

“...I didn’t know you were a mind reader, Lily.” She pressed two fingers to her temple, squeezing her eyes shut. “Though it’s strange. I don’t detect any dark magic telepathy at work here.”

“I’m not a mind-reader,” Riko giggled, but her smile was gone as soon as it appeared. “I just feel the same way as you. But as hard as it is to accept, I think it’s what I need right now. If I’m to try my hand at this whole ‘moving on’ thing, anyway.” She fell silent, leaning against the iron bars.  Yoshiko watched her long hair sway in the breeze, a stormy expression clouding her usually-golden eyes.

If Riko found it in herself to be this vulnerable, then the least Yoshiko could do was return the sentiment, to let her know she wasn’t alone.

“...Yeah. Me too.” She finally joined Riko at the roof’s edge, gazing out to the claustrophobic skyline. From anyone else’s perspective, it was surely a dramatic image: the two of them with their backs to an imaginary camera, staring at nothing while the breeze ruffled their hair in synchronicity. A wry smile crossed Yoshiko’s face at the mental image, and she silently wished she’d had the foresight to capture this moment somehow.

“I think we’re somewhat behind in that regard.” Riko broke the all-too-brief silence. “Ruby-chan’s started her own idol group, hasn’t she? I heard about it from Mari-chan.”

“Yep.” Yoshiko allowed herself a brief review of the relevant events: from its quiet inception courtesy of Ruby herself, to the unconditional support of Zuramaru and Yoshiko herself, now second-years, with Leah included. Once the news had reached Mari’s ears somehow, it was all but official. Keeping a secret from Mari and expecting her to keep a secret were both exercises in futility. “It’ll be hard, with Ruby and Leah living so far away from each other. Ruby might be entertaining the idea of moving? And I thought _I_ was crazy.” Yoshiko snickered, but her comments weren’t entirely in jest; the Ruby of old couldn’t even form a proper sentence around a stranger without breaking down. Yoshiko still couldn’t believe how quick, how radical the change had been. She almost envied it.

Riko nodded in agreement, but she had another avenue of conversation in mind. “I take it you didn’t join them? You didn’t mention it when we were talking yesterday, and you’re absent from all the pictures Ruby-chan and Hanamaru-chan post to the chat...”

Yoshiko quirked an eyebrow. It was just like Riko, to pick up on those little details. “No, I didn’t. I’ll support my little demons no matter what, but…”  she hesitated. _Come on. Lily deserves the truth._ “My heart wasn’t in it.”

Riko grimaced, her eyes full of sympathy. “Did you tell them? That must’ve been a difficult conversation to have.”

“I’d thought so too. I’d prepared this whole speech on how it’s ‘not them, it’s me,’ but they understood right away. Almost made me change my mind right then.” She smirked. “It’s kinda weird, watching the three of them do it without me, but… I really don’t think I could’ve done it if it was just for them.”

Instead of replying, Riko chose to gaze at her. Yoshiko tried to ignore it at first, as the glance was sidelong and she could pretend those golden eyes weren’t in her peripheral vision, but her curiosity won out. She met the stare. “What?”

“You probably don’t want to hear this from a normal girl like me, but we really are one and the same.”

“Please.” Yoshiko rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with that crap. ‘Lily’ and ‘normal’ are two words that don’t go together. Maybe even less than ‘Yohane’ and ‘normal.’”

“That makes it even more true, then,” Riko declared, wearing a triumphant smile for reasons unknown to Yoshiko. “Can we go back now? I feel a little better. Being up here works, I’m telling you. I feel like I’m about… five-percent moved on?” She stepped away from the edge, smiling, and Yoshiko fell in step with her on the way back to the music room.

 _Or maybe my thoughts are distracting you from your own?_ Yoshiko bit back the cynical thought. In truth, Riko’s announcement of similarity should have been a cause for celebration. One with a number of qualifications, but a celebration nonetheless; they were kindred spirits connected by an inability to move on.

* * *

 

 

Riko sat back at the piano bench, her eyes faintly concealing a muddle of emotions. Neither of them had turned on the light when they walked in. After a moment, Yoshiko sat next to her, and Riko lifted the piano cover with care. She stared at the keys as though they stared back.

“Lily, are you sure?” Yoshiko asked, seeing her thousand-yard gaze. “You shouldn’t force yourself.”

Riko’s eyes came back into focus, though her expression was still just as thoughtful. “...How about this: do you want me to play anything?”

“Me?” Yoshiko pointed at herself.

Riko nodded. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about this too selfishly? If I play at your request, it might help me approach the piano differently. I could worry less about what _I_ want out of it.”

“Huh.” Yoshiko ran a hand down the side of her cheek, frowning. Already, she could see how the plan could backfire; another person’s expectations could add pressure to Riko’s playing, further increasing the chances of another dead stop. But then again, if she suggested a piece that didn’t overemphasize technical precision, Riko could focus on the _feeling_ , bringing both of them closer to the complete immersion that Yoshiko still desired.

On top of that, she now had the chance to put in her very own request to Riko. She wasn’t going to pass that up, so she nodded to herself while she thought of a piece that would strike the right balance between expression and difficulty.

The answer that she landed on didn’t exactly scream “fallen angel,” but she was willing to sacrifice that, just for the moment, if it could lend Riko a modicum of confidence.

_“Clair de Lune.”_

Riko raised an eyebrow. Not the reaction that Yoshiko was expecting. “That’s… pretty easy, but…”

“But what?” Yoshiko wondered if she had somehow insulted the pianist, underestimating her skill in some way.

“But… I’m surprised you know it.”

“Don’t be. Isn’t it famous? Even in Hell, it is,” she tried, hoping she wouldn’t have to reveal that it was her preferred “study music,” which would certainly incite some anger from Riko and cause her to claim “disrespect” or something equally accusatory.

“That’s true… Oh! How about I play the whole _Suite bergamasque?_ ” She clasped her hands together in excitement, an excitement Yoshiko didn’t share.

“The what what?” Yoshiko didn’t bother to hide her puzzlement.

“ _Clair de Lune_ is the third movement of a larger composition, or ‘suite,” as it’s called here,” Riko explained. “It’s famous as a standalone, as you already know, but it’s really meant to be played alongside its companion pieces.”

“Is there…” Yoshiko frowned as she searched for a fitting term, limited as her technical knowledge of piano compositions was. “...an advantage to playing them all together? One that’s not for completion’s sake?”

Riko hummed, playing a single note on the piano as she mulled over the question. It rang out for a few seconds before she seemed to find her answer. “I’d say the suite takes you through a wide range of emotions, whether you’re playing or just listening. It’s more rewarding that way.”

If that was true, then Yoshiko only saw one other obstacle to Riko’s proposal. “Can you do it?”

Riko turned to face her, not a shadow of doubt on her face. “If it’s for you, Yocchan, then I think so.” She beamed.

Yoshiko flushed, gaping at Riko and at a total loss for words. _For all that is unholy, that is_ not _fair!_

* * *

 

From the get-go, from that moment Riko had once again laid her fingers to the keys, Yoshiko knew she was right to play the entire suite. [The opening section](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQFxKw7UOYc) thrived on its flighty runs and resounding bass notes, a far cry from the gentle and warm _Clair de Lune_ that she’d initially requested.

Though she was unfamiliar with this piece (Riko had called it a ‘Prelude’ and nothing more, and Yoshiko had tried not to snicker at this pleasing coincidence), she found herself entranced by its fluid dynamics. Riko would transition from near-pounding to the gentlest of touches at a moment’s notice.

More important than all of this was the expression of the player. Yoshiko didn’t hide the many glances she snuck at Riko’s face, and was pleased to see the hints of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, never quite there but always hiding just below the surface of her features. Even when she capped off the first section with dramatic flourishes, playing a series of runs with increasing difficulty, she never allowed herself more than a slight frown.

Was she so naive to think that progress came this easily? Was she so selfish to think that change was impeded only by an untried shift in perspective? She knew the dangers of succumbing to this belief, and yet she did anyway. So she _was_ selfish. She knew that. She would be selfish if it allowed her to believe in Riko.

Riko transitioned into [the second movement](https://youtu.be/SQFxKw7UOYc?t=4m16s) without so much as a cough. This piece, too, distinguished itself from the first notes with its key change, which Yoshiko was prescient enough to key in on. The overall tone was more playful, too, skipping along with notes of a generally shorter duration.

Yoshiko, in particular, enjoyed the bounce of Riko’s shoulders as she lifted her fingers off the keys in quick succession, her chin jutting upwards ever so slightly with each lift and bounce.

If the previous piece couldn’t stand alone as substantial evidence, perhaps this one could. Even if she crashed and burned in spectacular fashion after this, Yoshiko was sure that Riko had already proved herself many times over. And if she didn’t believe that, she would go to Hell and back in trying to convince her of that fact.

Riko played the subtlest of notes, lasting only for fractions of a second. Then, with a deep breath, she leaned further into the piano, and played the signature opening chords of [the third movement, _Clair de Lune._](https://youtu.be/SQFxKw7UOYc?t=8m8s)

Just as Riko had claimed, its effect was at once immediate and dramatically different than what Yoshiko expected. After the constant pomp and playfulness of the first and second movements, respectively, _Clair de Lune_ began with an understated beauty. Yoshiko found herself admiring each silence just as much as she did each series of harmonious chords, each line of melody and counter-melody.

Finally, she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. As she did, she leaned in closer to Riko and rested her head on the pianist’s shoulder.

“Yocchan?!” Riko’s harsh whisper sounded in her ear, and Yoshiko’s eyes snapped open. She looked up with trepidation, fearing that her impulsive action had ruined the beauty of this moment. Somehow, Riko continued playing through it all, even though Yoshiko could see the redness that dusted her cheeks.

“...should I stop?” she whispered back.

The music crescendoed briefly before Riko played a series of descending runs. Yoshiko watched her hands move - were they nervous? Shaking, even? Finally, she said, “No. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not harder to play?”

“If it was a harder piece, it would be…”

Yoshiko smiled into Riko’s shoulder. She knew she’d had the perfect request.

The piece came back down from its climax; even the more impressive arpeggios seemed to emphasize beauty over technicality. A slight variation appeared on the main theme, and Yoshiko knew that this movement was drawing to its close.

“I made a few mistakes, you know,” Riko murmured, still in the midst of playing the final few measures. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Just the opposite. It was wholly angelic.”

Was that her heart that was singing? She wanted to believe, if just for one wonderful, fleeting moment where she could treasure all of their uncertainties, that Riko’s heart was singing in perfect harmony with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooow I've actually finished a story?! For the first time since early 2017?!?! what alternate universe is this
> 
> Honestly, I don't feel satisfied setting up all this characterization in this post-canon setting and leaving it on an uncertain note, especially where the romance is concerned (if you can even call it that). So, even though I know it's dangerous to say this with my complete lack of discipline, this will most likely be the prequel to a long-form piece that will focus on the intersection of Yoshiko's and Riko's dramatically different lives X amount of years down the road. The idea's been running in my head for a looong time, but maybe now that I've finished this (and I've pitched the idea for the sequel by typing it and putting it out there), that could be the impetus I actually needed to start?! idk
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. I had a lot of fun writing these two. See you when I see you.


End file.
